The Republic Fox

The Disturbance

A citizen slammed into his shield, screaming profanities and death wishes towards him and his men. The citizen's voice rose with the crowd. Fox gritted his teeth. This one was bad. The crowd was writhing over a new decision the Senate had made. Fox had strict orders not to hurt anyone. He grunted as another citizen slammed into his shield, trying to break through his trooper's defense line. How was he supposed to keep the crowd back without using force? He knew how of course. If it got bad enough, him and his men would become living shields. One of his men, Sharp, got punched in the face. Sharp reeled back, but held his ground. A few more got through. Suddenly the line broke. The crowd surged forward, a writhing, seething mass of hate. The police behind them screamed on their whistles, trying to arrest anyone who broke through. But there were too many. Three citizens pushed him back into a street sign. He stumbled back and his head cracked against the metal pole. Spots flickered in his vision. He looked around, trying to find his men through the three who were now screaming in his face. Across the street, his eyes lighted on a hurried figure. Silv. She was trying to fight through the crowd. What was she doing here? She tugged on her skirt to get past another raging person shoving a sign in her face. She glanced over, and her blue eyes met his. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her face went pale as she saw him. His armor splattered in mud and the different rotting things that the protestors brought with them. The protester in his face spat, "WE DON'T WANT YOUR WAR HERE CLONE!"

Fox growled, trying to contain the anger zipping through his body. Didn't they know? It wasn't the clones fault they were here. They were simply bred to fight a war that wasn't theirs to fight. But no, these people didn't know. Fox realized they simply needed a person to blame. One protester elbowed his helmet at his jawline. Fox grunted, but continued commanding orders to his men, trying to help order the crowd. One of the three walked away, and grabbed one of the signs thrown to the ground by another protester. The man stalked angrily towards him. He swung the sign, smashing it against Fox's ribs. Fox gasped and clutched his side. The protester screamed, "HOW'D YOU LIKE THAT WARMONGER??"

He lifted the sign back and slammed it across Fox's head. Fox's head wrenched to the side and he fell to his knees. His head started to spin. Black spots flashed across his vision. A few kicks came raining down as he clutched one hand to his head. "Use no force. Use no force!" he chanted. Both to himself and to his men.

Fox looked up. His men were being beaten. Angry citizens ran rampant around, pushing, shoving, and attacking his men. Bile rose in his throat. How could they put his men through this? The protesters were almost to the doors of the Senate entrance. Fox shook his head. He had a duty to fulfill. He had to secure that door. Those protesters couldn't get inside the building. He started to crawl up the stairs. Another protester slammed a sign on his back. His knees and arms gave out. His body cracked against the stairs. Sharp heat flashed from his cheek, rib, and thigh as the force of hitting the stairs cracked his armor. Grunting with pain, he continued his climb. A kick to the shoulder ripped his shoulder pad off. Fox roared as the strap caught his shoulder and jerked it out of its socket. Clenching his jaw, he stumbled to the door. Turning around, he gripped the sides of the doors. He lifted his head to face the screaming mob.

Their faces were blotched red in rage, the mob climbed the steps towards him. His men were now focusing their attention on evacuating the wounded. The police were in the fray too, but had no luck controlling the crowd. He clenched his jaw. It was up to him. The crowd swayed. His legs trembled with the effort to keep himself upright. His shoulder throbbed. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead and face underneath his helmet. A protester walked up to him, his fists balled up. Fox took in a shuttered breath. Use. No. Force.

The protester brought his fist back. Brown hair and a slender figure moved over his vision. She lifted her hand above her head to ward off a blow. Fox's heart jumped. Silv! The fist of the protestor slammed into her forearm. She yelped in pain and was pushed back against Fox. He whispered, "Silv! What are you-"

She glanced at him. There was a fierce determination in her eyes. A fire Fox had never truly seen before. She turned to the protester. Fox wanted to scream, to get her out of harm's way. She had no training, no armor. This wasn't her fight. Fox was stationed at Corusaunt to protect people like her. The protester landed another blow. Silv screamed in pain and fell to her knees. Fox roared. She glared silently up at the protester. He slammed another blow down on her without a thought. Silv dropped to the ground. Fox whimpered. He stepped closer to the protester and shoved him back. The protester took a couple backsteps. Another protester came from the side and slammed his fist up under Fox's jaw. Fox's head whipped back, his helmet shoved off. It hit the pavement, bounced, and slowly rolled down the stairs.

Fox saw the crowd pushing further forward. He knew he couldn't hold this for very long. He put one foot over Silv's limp body. He snarled challengingly at the crowd. Balling up his fists, he waited for the protester to step forward. The crowd swayed in hesitation. The thunder of helicopters flew overhead with fresh reinforcements. The crowd stopped as dozens of police and troopers came swarming in from the alleys and swinging from the helicopters. A wave of realization swept over the crowd, and they jumped into a frenzy, running in panic away from the scene. More helicopters zoomed in with the media sites, not wanting to miss the action.

Footsteps thudded all around him. A straggler raced clumsily by. He clipped the back of Silv's head and tripped down the stairs. Fox's face fell in fear. Was she ok? He flipped around to her head and felt her pulse. It was barely there. More people came streaming over the steps. The first few started tripping over her legs. One stepped on her arm without noticing. Fox desperately curled her further into a ball. He placed one hand on the other side of her limp body, and crouched gently over her. He lowered his head down close to hers as the mob raced through. He felt the bumps, kicks, and feet of those trampling past. Fox screamed, desperate to keep her safe. Fear streaked across his face. The crowd could do their worst to him. They could mock him, hate him, beat him daily. He looked down at Silv's relaxed face. But how could they do something to her? A small light of hope, who knew nothing of war. She was the only innocent in all this.

He crouched there for a long time. His body tensed for any other attacks. Soon, the blows slowed. After ages, he felt the silent whisper of wind, and then nothing. He looked up, blood and tears slipping down his face. He was alone with Silv on the steps to the Senate house. Wind rustled the loose protest flyers. Police and troopers scattered across the yard, finally getting the crowd under control. Ambulances were taking the wounded, and the Media circled the yard. The worst was over.